I'll Be Waiting For You
by AdriRin
Summary: Here follows Rory and Amy's complete love story. From the very day they first met, to the Centurion's years of undying loyalty, and even to the future, there was only one thing that remained constant- he would always wait for her, even to the end of time.
1. A Flash of Orange

**A/N: Since watching Girl Who Waited I've felt that Amy and Rory have a romance that is ripe for fiction, and is in fact so ripe that it deserves being explored and written out. So here begins my attempt to do this beautiful pair some justice, chronicling their love from the day they met to even past River's Wedding. Yes, it will be original, and at the same time I will keep it very canon whenever there are details from the show that can be used.** So here's to the Boy and Girl Who Waited, and I hope you enjoy my take on the Glorious Ponds!)****

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><p><strong><em>Prologue: (A.D. 102 - Stonehenge)<em>**

"_Will she be safer if I stay?" Rory was walking over to the Doctor now, his voice rising with his agitation. His face was right in front of the Time Lord's, wide-eyed and serious. "Look me in the eye and tell me she wouldn't be safer."_

_The Doctor sighed as he shook his head, wanting to stop Rory from being…so_ human_. For crying out loud, sometimes they were just so wonderful and yet impossibly difficult at the same time to deal with. "Rory…"_

_"ANSWER ME!" Rory shouted, strangely daunting in his Roman garb. There was an intense desperation in his eyes; no doubt left over still from the guilt of what he had done._

_The Doctor closed his eyes."Yes. Obviously."_

"_Then how could I leave her?" Rory turned back to gaze at the box that held Amy, his Amy, barely alive. "This box needs a guard. I killed the last one. And she'll be all alone."_

_He'd made up his mind. He wasn't going to leave with the Doctor; he wasn't going to take a shortcut and jump to the future while Amy sat alone in a prison for centuries on end. It was all his fault, after all. There was just no way._

_The Doctor was sighing and shaking his head again; no doubt at what he viewed as a terribly impossible plan. As he turned up the Time Manipulator, he began talking fast once more, trying to squeeze in as much information as he possibly could in a short amount of time. "Listen to me. This is the last piece of advice you're going to get in a very long time. You can't heal or repair yourself. Any damage is permanent…I have no idea how long you'll last."_

_Rory put on his helmet as he tried to listen, but as always, some of the Doctor's rambles got lost on him. And all too soon, the Doctor was gone with a strange sizzle and a flash of blue, bowtie and tweed jacket all gone. As Rory turned to look around the ashen tomb he was standing in, realization of what he had just chosen to do hit him full force. The blank and grey faces of all the petrified aliens around him gazed back at him coldly; the dusty cobwebs dangled above his head without any sign of life. Even the head of the Cyberman he had killed seemed to peer at him with hollow eyes, and feeling uncomfortable, he kicked it over to the side. Now he was standing in the middle of nothing but a black, dim, silent world, and he would be waiting forever with just this cold metal box. A tiny shiver began to creep up his spine._

_But no, he wasn't alone, that was right – because right behind these dark and impenetrable walls sat Amy. Amy Pond, with her beautiful locks of fiery red hair, her smile and her zealous energy, and she was worth protecting. Yes, she was worth doing anything for. He would never forget that.  
><em>

_"Plus, it's my fault you're here in the first place, isn't it?" Rory said with a half-hearted chuckle to the chilly emptiness. He drew his sword and sat down, feeling the icy cold from the Pandorica immediately seep through his cloak. "I can't forgive myself for shooting you, and I don't expect you to, either. So now I'm going to do anything I can to make it up to you. I will protect you. I'll always protect you. I promise."_

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><p><strong>(A.D. 1995 - England)<strong>

Rory Williams never forgot the first day he saw Amelia Pond.

It was a warm summers day, one of those comfortable afternoons when it's neither too hot nor too cold. Leadsworth was peaceful and mundane as always, and Rory was outside kicking a ball aimlessly. His shirt was dirty on one side with cherry juice from a melted pop, and he was trying to figure out what to do about it when his mother had driven up to the house and gotten out, carrying a bag of groceries. Rory immediately ran to the other side of the car in a feeble attempt to hide his shirt, but his mother barely noticed. Instead, her attention was focused elsewhere. "Oh look," she remarked, slamming the car door shut, "it looks like the new neighbors have arrived." She stood on the driveway for a few minutes, squinting against the sun as she surveyed their house, her bag held close against her side. After a couple minutes where she had no doubt thoroughly evaluated the new neighbors, she finally turned around and said, "Well, they seem nice enough. And there even seems to be a girl about your age. Isn't that nice?"

Rory peeped around from the other side of the car nervously. He was always shy with people, and new people would just downright render him speechless. He glanced at the house down on the corner of the street, bustling with activity as the family and their movers carried huge boxes of furniture and objects all over the place. They didn't seem too exciting or crazy, but they were also all old; he didn't see any little girl at all. Rory returned to kicking his ball. "Yeah, it's nice, Mum," he mumbled.

Mrs. Williams smiled. "Why don't we go over there later, give them a nice proper welcoming treat? I've just bought this cake, I think it would make a perfect gift. And maybe you could make a new friend. That'd be nice, yes?" She beamed indulgently at him, and after holding the cake up for him to see, drifted away into the house.

Rory slunk around the car again, moving the ball slowly along between his legs with tiny kicks. A new friend would be nice, _sure_, but that was assuming if anyone would ever want to be his friend. And girls especially, he knew, usually did not want to be his friend. He highly doubted this girl would be anything new.

He squatted down to sit on his ball, plucking away sullenly at a blade of grass. He couldn't even see any girl at all; for all he knew she was strange and even more reclusive than he was. But then he saw her, just for a short blinding moment. There was a flash of a red sweater, and even redder hair, as a little girl his height went running out of the garden excitedly and into the front door. Her face was nothing but energy and happiness, and even from where he was sitting he could hear her happy giggling drift down the street. "Mummy, mummy!" she was shouting, "have you seen the garden yet?"

Rory nearly rolled off of his ball. Even before the front door had swallowed her up, he knew he had felt something… _weird. _This girl seemed different from all the other ones, though exactly how… he wasn't quite sure. But he knew for certain that in the single instant he had seen her, he had noticed nothing else, as if all of time and space had ceased to exist.

Little did he know how often she would eventually be making him feel that way. It was going to be a feeling that would never leave him, nor one that he could ever get enough of. And even though she had now disappeared, and was doubtlessly jumping around with joy on one of the new beds, the burning flash of her orange hair as it flew behind her was still burning like a bright afterimage in his mind.

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><p><strong>(AN: So this is just the beginning! :)**

**This story may eventually grow to M - I thought I would just give fair warning early on. Of course, if any of you feel that it _shouldn't_ be made M, please leave comments and let me know, and if enough people feel that way, I will not go there. Possibly. Likewise, if you WANT M (oh tsk tsk :P) let me know too, and I will also take your opinions accordingly. But most importantly, R&R! It's the best motivation for any author. ;) )**


	2. Gardens and Lawn Chairs

Later that evening, Rory tagged slowly along behind his mother as she marched primly up to the front doorstep of the newly arrived neighbors, cake and overly-happy greetings all prepared. She had forced him out his ruined shirt just minutes earlier when the cherry stains were at last spotted, and after jerking a comb through his hair and rubbing his face down with a towel, she shook her head in exasperation and quickly ushered him out of the house. The sky was beginning to grow dimmer as evening drew near, and the moving vans and the burly men who drove them had all disappeared. All that was left now was the random stickers and packaging tape that was strewn all over the driveway and front yard. The house also seemed calmer, since the state of frenzy it had been in had slowed down, and as his mother pressed the doorbell and stood back to wait, Rory found himself nervously fighting a desire to run back to the safety of his own house.

There was a shout that came from inside: "Ameliaaaaa! Can you please go get the door!" And then the sound of things tumbling over the floor, somebody apologizing, and a series of rushed footsteps toward the door. Mrs. Williams barely had a chance to turn around and raise an eyebrow at her son when the door clicked open and the little red-headed girl stood there in the doorway, blinking up at them with her eyes wide and clear. "Hello," she said, "can I help you?"

Mrs. Williams gave the little girl a huge smile. "Well hello there!" she said, bending over, "we're your neighbors! I'm Mrs. Williams and this is Rory." She attempted to push Rory out from where he was hiding behind her skirt. "And who might you be?"

"Amelia Pond," the girl replied matter-of-factly. She looked away from the beaming woman, who was obviously patronizing her, to the little boy peeping out at her from behind his mother. He had a head of long and messy mousy-colored hair, and from all she could see of his half-hidden face, his eyes were huge and not unlike those of a nervous mouse's, too. "I'll get my mum. Muuuuuuum!" she hollered, "people here to see you!"

"Shush, Amelia, stop yelling," said another woman, appearing from the hallway and opening the door wider. She turned to smile at Mrs. Williams. "Hello. Sorry about that, Amelia just loves the sound of her own voice. Please, come inside." She stepped aside to let them in, and quietly Rory followed his mother in, surreptitiously trying to remain unnoticed. The woman holding the door had a head of dark hair, severely tied back in a knot, but a genuine and kind smile. "I'm her Aunt Sharon. You must be our neighbors!"

Mrs. Williams laughed cheerily. "Yes, we live a few houses down the street. We just came over to bring you a little gift –"she produced the cake – "as well as to welcome you to Leadsworth! We don't get many new neighbors all the time, and it's always a merry event. Here's a fair warning – be prepared to have a lot more visitors."

"Oh, is that so?" laughed Aunt Sharon, and as the women began merrily exchanging banter, another woman, tall and ginger-haired, walked out, accompanied by a portly man. Rory began tuning out the conversation automatically in disinterest, for it was quickly becoming nothing but typical grown-up talk, and only barely heard the new couple introduce themselves as Amelia's parents. "Call me Augustus!" The stout man was saying with a booming laugh.

Rory turned around to take in the house. It was strangely laid out, with a staircase only a few steps away leading up to another narrow floor, and dark blue walls everywhere bordered with yellow crown molding. There were also boxes of things and furniture lying around everywhere. "…Sorry about the mess," Aunt Sharon was saying, "but do come in and stay for some tea with us. Amelia, why don't you show Rory around?" The adults began to drift off down a hallway towards the kitchen, still busy talking, and before Rory fully understood what was going on, he found himself left alone in the corridor with the red-haired girl. She was pursing her lips at him, an unimpressed look on her face. "Well, come on then," she said, "I suppose I'm supposed to show you around. Want to see our garden?" Without waiting for a reply, she spun around and dashed off towards the back, and Rory quickly hurried after her.

Amelia pushed aside the back door and stepped outside onto the gravel. Rory followed tentatively, cautious to keep a distance away from her, for in his experience it was always better to stay away from cootie-filled girls. She, however, didn't seem to have as many inhibitions. "Come on," she repeated, tugging briefly at his jacket sleeve, "it's a nice garden. Best thing there is here, so far."

And it was true, Rory thought, as he looked around. Just like there had been a lot of plants and hedges growing around the front yard, and even a little archway that hung over the cobbled path to the front door, there was equally a lot of vegetation in the back. It was nothing but a blanket of green and cobbled floor, and there was even a tiny fountain, with the statue of a girl and a bird sitting on her hand, spewing a steady trickle of water from its beak. Amelia flopped down on a lawn chair and gazed into the thick hedges. "I like gardens," she said simply.

Rory walked slowly over, and after wavering uncertainly for a while, sat down on the lawn chair next to hers. His brain told him that he was supposed to say something to the girl, and to stop being so shy and awkward, but he couldn't really think of anything smart to say.

That was okay, though, since this girl seemed fine with carrying a conversation on by herself. "The garden back at our home in Scotland was much smaller. So that's really the only good thing here. The rest of the stuff here is complete rubbish. The house, this town…" She started twisting a corner of her red sweater. "Even the weather is rubbish here. I didn't really want to come, but Mummy said we had no choice. And Aunt Sharon said she could help us find this house, and so that's how we ended up here. But now I have to start a new school. And I don't have any more friends here. I had a lot of friends back in Scotland, you know." She turned to face the quiet boy next to her. "Do you have a lot of friends?"

Rory shrugged awkwardly.

"I'll take that as a no..." The girl rolled her eyes and swiveled away in her chair. "Well, anyways, I'm Amelia. As you probably know by now. What's your name?"

"Rory." Rory could hear his own voice coming out, sounding a little too subdued. "Williams."

"How old are you?"

Rory held up seven fingers.

"Oh, I'm almost seven too. But not quite yet. Still have a couple more months. Where's your father?"

Rory just shook his head.

"Okay…" Amelia was pursing her lips again. "Do you like gardens?"

Rory shrugged sheepishly.

"You're really quiet, Rory, did you know that?"

Rory couldn't really think of anything to say to that.

"But, I'll probably be like that at school too. 'Cos I know I've got this Scottish accent. Everyone already seems like they have trouble understanding me. The truck drivers this morning kept asking me to repeat myself. I mean - do you understand me?"

Rory thought for a moment, and then nodded. Then, after a few more seconds, he added meekly, "Don't worry. I…I don't think you'll have any trouble at school."

Amelia smiled a wide smile. "Really?"

Rory nodded. "Mm-hm." After that, Amelia didn't speak again for a bit, and the two of them just sat on their lawn chairs, staring vacantly into the thick depths of the garden. The evening was falling rapidly now, and all the leaves were deepening into a solid green blanket under the violet-grey sky. Amelia was pulling her sweater tightly against herself to ward off the slight chill that had begun to creep into the air.

As the silence stretched on, Rory could feel a little more confidence, as well as mastery of the English language, finally returning to him. On impulse, he turned back towards the red-haired girl. "You know," he mumbled before he could stop himself, "even if you do have trouble at school. We - we could be friends. You know, just if you'd like."

Her eyes were big and clear and amused as she stared back at him. "Sure," she said, nodding a little, "Maybe we could. That'd be nice."

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><p><strong>AN: In response to a comment...No, there will be no Doctor threesomes. o_O When I said "possible M", it's only that when Rory and Amy grow up and get more physical, there may be a possibility that I'll be writing some smut. xD But it all depends on how things are by then, too. I might just keep it T because situations call for it! But to those of you worried about strange threesomes - nope, that's not my thing and I won't be writing any of it. xD So don't worry.**

**Also, I did my best to do my research and stuff on all the information about Amy's childhood the show provides us with. I rewatched episodes, read transcripts and did all my Googling. Still, if any of you think I may have done something wrong, feel free to point it out! As well as any...British language discrepancies, since I'm American and even though I am doing my best to try to not let that show, I think it still does. XD But as for Amy not remembering her parents and growing up with just the aunt and all - don't worry, I will be dealing with it soon. :) Thanks for R&R!**


	3. Cracked

**(A/N: Agh... I wanted to update earlier than this, but this week has been brutal! Next week doesn't look any better. :( Professors will never understand that we need less studying and homework to do so that we can write fanfiction.)**

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><p>As it soon turned out, Amelia Pond did not have trouble fitting into school at all. Despite her Scottish brogue, when classes started, she soon found herself always running about with a band of girls and boys alike, eating lunches together and playing tag on the playground. Rory was not surprised; he had known that this would happen – nor was he surprised when she didn't hold up her side of the "friendship" promise, either. She seemed to forget about him entirely; while he hung around with some of the other quiet boys in their year, she had decided that she needed much noisier and wild companionship. The most recognition she would ever give him was a brief wave on the rare occasions when she finally looked up from her games of chase, and noticed him sitting on the other side of the playground. She'd flash him a quick smile, and then before he could wave back, she would have turned away again.<p>

This was how life went on for a couple of months, until shortly after her seventh birthday, when the crack in her wall happened.

Rory had not gone to the party; not for lack of invitation, because he had been personally invited by Aunt Sharon when she showed up at their front door, but because he was smart enough to know that this was just one of those cordial mannerisms that adults did for each other when they felt obliged to keep up appearances. The same thing had happened with blonde Brittany's fifth birthday party; he had been invited only because her mother was friends with his, but just because his mother was a social butterfly did not mean he was one too. Rory knew who the other kids that had been invited to Amelia's party were, and he also knew that he did not talk to any of them. It was better to just not go, and save himself from feeling like the odd one out, no matter how much his mother tried to persuade him otherwise.

However, the day of the party was also when the rumors started. They started out as little whispers but soon spread like wildfire; news was that Amelia Pond had taken a turn for the crazy, and even Rory soon heard enough to piece together what happened. According to the other children, the day had started out normally enough, until Amelia went upstairs to pick up some presents to unwrap. She had run screaming back down the stairs about some voices inside her wall. Her aunt had tried to calm her down and lead her back upstairs, but to no avail. Amelia had been terribly frightened and refused to move, and in the end, even started crying when her aunt told her not to be silly, that it was just a simple crack in the wall. _She's such a_ _baby,_ Rory had overheard Kate Hayler whispering snidely, _not that I find that surprising._

The rumors got meaner. Soon her Scottish tone, multiple freckles and chubbiness were no longer cute, but all disfavors instead. Amelia continued to make matters worse as she ran around at school telling people about the voices in her wall, and when everyone told her she just had a vivid imagination, she would get angry and stamp her foot and run away. She also started asking everyone where her parents were, but that was just more crazy talk – everyone knew she never had any parents! From the day she moved in, she had only a spinster aunt. There was never anyone else in that strangely laid out, multi-floored house. Soon, friend after friend left her, perturbed by her insistent, crazy assertions, or simply embarrassed to be around her constant tears and outbursts. The young, talkative little redhead soon found herself eating with only an occasional friend, and told constantly by peers and teachers that she had no parents, that Tabetha and Augustus had never existed, that they had been missing since she was a baby. It was what her own aunt insisted, and what she would tell the school authorities when they questioned her. One teacher went so far as to advise Aunt Sharon to take the child to a psychiatrist; no doubt little Amelia was suffering some sort of unstable issue, depressed over the fact that she never knew her parents, and angry that everyone else had a perfect family when she didn't. Aunt Sharon assured the teacher that it was fine; she was just a little girl still, and little girls were prone to vivid imaginations, and she was sure it would soon pass.

But Amelia didn't let it go. Over some time, she came to gradually accept that she had never known her own parents; perhaps the story Aunt Sharon told her about the car crash was true. She felt that she had memories, and yet as the weeks went by, they seemed to grow increasingly hazy, like fading dreams that slip away when we wake up. Perhaps it really was all just a dream, some vivid fantasy like the one she had about the giant alien octopus, and she had just gotten carried away with it. There was no sign of her parents ever living in the house, even though Amelia had spent days searching for even the tiniest clue, and the more she thought about it, the less she was able to hold onto what she thought she knew. Her parents' faces grew distorted, and their voices were forgotten – had her father been tall and skinny, and her mother short and plump? When she tried to ask her aunt, Sharon would only shake her head and tell her Amelia, it's okay, all you need to know is that they loved you very much. Well, Amelia would think irritably, fat lot of help that is.

Even though her parents had melted away from reality, the crack on her wall did not. It stayed there, long and crooked and ominous, like a hideous reminder to her of the day it all went wrong. Her aunt tried to cover it up with her scribbled drawings and pictures torn from magazines, but nothing ever seemed to stay stuck on that wall for long; soon enough the papers would drop to the floor again, the tape useless, and the crack would still be there, as noticeable as ever. Amelia was now sure there were things inside the wall, because every day when she was in the room she could hear the same voice repeating itself, warning her of a Prisoner Zero. It terrified her; she knew there was just something absurdly wrong with the whole thing. But her aunt didn't seem to agree. She had allowed Amelia to sleep with her for the first few nights, but afterwards her aunt just couldn't stand her constant flailing in bed anymore and had sent her back to her room. "It's just a crack, Amelia," she said tiredly, tucking a strand of red hair behind the girl's ear, "and this is an old house. Old houses always have cracks. We have cracks in the kitchen and in my room, too, they're everywhere. But nothing ever comes out of them, do they? It's just what happens when cement and paint gets old. Now, I promise I'll try to get it fixed for you as soon as we can, but first, I'll have to get a little more money, all right? You know how tight things are for us right now. Just wait it out a little."

Amelia rolled over in her bed, drawing the blankets over her head and cocooning herself into a tight bundle, hidden away from the world. She didn't want to look at the crack, and she tried to muffle out the strange sounds that came from it. She didn't want to hear anything more, not even from her aunt, for no one believed her and only thought she was crazy – but she wasn't crazy, she just wasn't. She knew she wasn't imagining things. She would just have to wait for someone to come along who would finally believe her, and help her out.

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><p>Rory was outside the next day, playing fetch with the neighbor's dog, a furry little terrier that loved coming over with a ball in its mouth whenever its family left. The little dog had quickly discovered that whenever it was lonely, it could find attention and love from the boy next door, who often seemed equally as lonely.<p>

Rory had just tossed the ball far into the grass when he saw Amelia crossing down the street, headed in his direction. Quickly he turned away, pretending he hadn't seen her, and craned his neck to look after the dog. "Here, boy," he called, "I'm right here!" But the dog had found new joy in rolling over and over in the grass, tossing the ball back and forth in his mouth, and completely ignored him.

"Is that your dog?" Amelia's voice came drifting over to him from behind, and reluctantly Rory turned around. "No," he said shortly, and turned away again to chase after the dog.

Amelia followed, persistent. "Then why do I see you playing with him all the time?"

Rory pointed at the house to his left. "It's the Briggs. But they let me play with him whenever they go out."

"Oh." Amelia said. She stopped beside him, a few feet from the dog, and together they blinked down in silence at the little dog frolicking about in the grass with absolute happiness.

"He's cute," Amelia finally said after a moment.

Rory nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"So, you like dogs, then? Is he your friend?" she asked.

Rory nodded again. "Uh… yeah."

Suddenly Amelia sighed and flopped down on the grass. "Rory, I'm sorry."

Rory looked down over at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For… you know… not hanging out with you at school 'n stuff. Even after I said I would. I know I sort of ignored you. So, um, I'm really sorry 'bout that… ok?" She ended that sentence with a little wince up at him.

"Oh, err." Rory turned away and shrugged as if he didn't care. "S'okay."

"'Kay." Amelia looked down at the grass and hugged her knees to her body. "So do you think I could… stay here for a little bit today?"

Rory shrugged again. Amelia decided to take that for a yes.

"Because, it's just that, I can't stand being at home right now. Aunt Sharon keeps telling me these things but she won't listen to me! And everyone thinks I'm a big baby." Angrily she rubbed her nose. "No one will believe anything I say."

Rory nodded slowly. "Yeah… I heard about… all that."

Amelia sniffed. "But, the thing is, I'm not crazy, y'know? I'm not a baby. We're almost third graders. Julie's the baby." Julie was the latest newborn on their street, and the parents had just thrown a big shower for her over the weekend. Rory nodded silently again in agreement, and then sat down on the grass as well, a few feet away from her, facing the opposite direction. The little dog continued to play by himself in the grass, now trying viciously to tear apart the ball with his tiny teeth.

"I don't know what to do." Amelia's voice now sounded tinier. "I don't like my room anymore. I don't like the voices I keep hearing. I think it's monsters."

"Monsters?" Rory asked.

Amelia propped her head on her knees. "Mhmm. They sound angry and creepy, so it's gotta be monsters. And they keep talking about some Prisoner Zero."

"Oh." Rory said simply. This was new information to him.

Amelia eyed him from the corner of her eyes. "You probably think I'm crazy now, too, don't you? Everyone says my parents and the monsters are all made up by my mind, too. Go on, tell me I'm crazy."

Rory was silent for a moment. About that whole parent thing….he could swear he also remembered something very vaguely. Weren't there some other adults when he had gone with his mother over to the Pond's house the day they moved in…? But the image didn't seem quite right. Maybe he was just mixing events up? Maybe they were just some other adults from some other place that had talked to his mother, and he just jumbled them all up in his head? His mother had lots of friends, after all, and he hardly ever paid much attention to them.

"Are you being quiet because you think I'm crazy, or just because you don't have anything to say?" Amelia demanded from beside him.

Rory shook his head quickly. "No…actually I believe you," he said quietly.

"You what?" Amelia said in surprise.

"I said, I believe you." Rory pulled at his shoelace. "I think there are monsters sometimes too. And, well, I thought there used to be other adults at your house, but…" An image of his mother shaking her head at him and sighing over that poor Amelia Pond who had no parents resurfaced in his mind. "…But maybe I'm wrong about that. 'Cause your aunt says so."

Amelia was staring at him.

"And, you know," Rory continued, feeling the words slip out of him, "it's okay really. I don't have a dad either. He left when I was five. But I'm used to it now. I know how sometimes you want to believe he's still there, that you have both your parents together, but then you'll get used to it. So…maybe that's what you're doing right now. I used to be kind of like that too."

Amelia stared at him for a couple more seconds. Then she grinned. "So you're as crazy as I am."

Rory scratched his head, confused. "Err… I s'pose…?"

"Yes, you are! Auntie says I'm crazy for believing myself, so if you believe me too, that makes you crazy too." She was giggling now.

Rory could feel the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks; that was not what he meant at all. He ducked his head and twirled the terrier's tail; the shaggy little thing had now come up to curl beside him, tired from its play.

"Do you know why your father left?" Amelia asked suddenly.

Rory jerked at his shoelace hard, and the whole thing came undone. His mother would be fussing again over how he never tied them up properly.

"He just did," he said, a little more sullenly than he intended.

Amelia could sense that he didn't want to talk about it, so she decided to change the subject. "Oh. Well, what's his name?" She ran a hand down the terrier's fur.

"Well, the Briggs call him Toofie," Rory replied, and was rewarded with a snort, "but I don't like to. He usually just responds when I call him "boy" or something, anyhow."

"I'd call him Shaggy." Amelia said, still gently stroking his fur. "Or Sandy, 'cos his fur is sandy. Hi, Sandy." The dog turned to lick her finger, as if acknowledging his newly bestowed name.

Everything felt comfortable and warm to Rory now. He had a warm ball of fur curled up against his leg, and he liked talking to Amelia, he realized. The air was also still warm and lazy with summer, and there were crickets chirping harmoniously somewhere.

"Hey, Rory?" Amelia asked suddenly. "Do you want to come see the crack tomorrow? Maybe you can tell me whether you can hear voices or not, too."

Rory nodded. "Okay."

"And Rory?" Amelia had on a small smile. "Thank you for believing me."


	4. Ghost of a Memory

**(A/N: Well, here's a temporary change of pace, to break from all the childhood memories! (Don't worry, I'm going back there with the next chapter.) But look! Some plot is revealed! XD This story isn't just me building from Moffat's world - it has an original plotline to make things more "storylike", too. But the majority will still be filling in Rory and Amy's growing up story, etc, since that's what initially inspired me to write this. So if you guys don't like...the "original" part of this, let me know and I'll keep it tuned down. :) I also think this story might get angsty near the middle too, hmm...dunno. Still kinda shaping everything up as I write, but I'll figure it out. :D**

**Anyhow - I just want to say a really quick thank you to all my subscribers and reviewers. It means a lot! It gives me the "will" to keep writing, hehe, so...keep feeding me motivation! Ok, and now I'll shut up.)**

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><p><strong>(A.D. 118 – Roman Empire)<strong>

Rory opened his eyes.

He must have dozed off, he realized, as he looked blearily about the silent cavern and tried to shake the cloying sense of confusion from his head. The underbelly of Stonehenge didn't appear very different, as everything was still as petrified and ashen as ever. Yawning, he stretched his legs and arms and marveled at how his whole body ached and felt stiffer than a rod – he must have slept for quite some time. Amy would have laughed at him for always falling into a catatonic-like slumber; while she was able to usually sleep soundly as well, she was prone to waking up at random noises, while he was able to carry on like the dead. _It's from all those nights when I would hope to hear the Tardis coming back,_ she'd once said as she laid her head on his chest. _I guess I spent so long sleeping lightly, just so that I wouldn't miss hearing it, that it's become a bad habit. _

Amy.

Rory suddenly sat up in horror; _he had been sleeping._ How could he have let his attention stray like that? He was supposed to be guarding the box, and now he wasn't even sure how long he had been asleep. Had it been days, months… god, years even? Time seemed completely frozen in this unchanging tomb. Quickly he jumped up and turned around to inspect the Pandorica. It seemed untouched, and only leered back at him imposingly in icy grandeur. He let out a small sigh of relief, leaning his head forward against its side. He couldn't do that again; he had to watch Amy. All he had done was drift off with a memory or two, and somehow that had led him to fall asleep.

Even as he berated himself for his lack of duty, however, another strange thought slowly occurred to him. He was an Auton now – he wasn't supposed to need sleep. That much he had figured out back before the Doctor and Amy had even appeared in ancient Rome. He had been able to stay awake for days on end, patrolling the Roman army camps without ever feeling tired, and though it had led him and the other men to wonder before, it now made perfect sense. He was just plastic, after all, and since when did plastic men need sleep? Unless…unless… he knew his own consciousness was flooding back; even the Doctor had admitted that he was more human than mannequin. Was it just his old Rory needs, his natural instinct to doze off when there was nothing engaging, taking over?

"I'd say you're right." The voice was unexpected in the silence, quiet, soft, and eerily close by.

Rory whirled around; in a split second he had his gladius unsheathed and pointed at the woman that stood behind him, her skin and hair paler than the multitude of dust motes floating through the air. She was swathed in a pale, ghost-grey silken dress that clung to her skin, and her hair hung down in long, loose waves. She seemed to be dressed like a Roman, and yet Rory wasn't quite sure – he furiously racked his brain as he tried to remember all the history books he'd read and the pictures of Roman attire they'd shown. There was something about her that he could immediately sense was out of place, something otherworldly, like she was more Greek goddess than human. Persephone when she went down to Hades' lair, perhaps. Quickly he blinked a few times – maybe he was already going mad like the Doctor had suggested – but when he opened his eyes she was still standing there, a faintly bemused expression on her elfin face.

"I'm quite real, I can assure you." She said, her voice strangely musical, "and you can put away that sword."

Rory ignored her. "Who are you?" He demanded, trying to sound intimidating. His voice was hoarse, however, and that by itself gave him enough clue as to how long it had been since he'd last spoken. "How did you get down here?"

The woman smiled. "Same way you did. And don't worry; I bear you and your… box no harm." She eyed the Pandorica briefly, and then swept off towards a frozen Dalek a few feet away. "I'm just here… to help you, Rory." She drew a finger lazily through the dust coating the Dalek's head, forming a circle.

Rory tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking; something was very unnerving about this woman. Despite her soft, fair features, there was a troubling feeling that emanated from her core, like a flower masks its poisonous stem. "How," – he cleared his throat – "how do you know my name?"

"Oh, Rory." The woman glanced upwards at him coyly. "Of course I know your name. How could I not?"

"Okay, who are you?" Rory demanded again. His sword followed her as she left the Dalek and began to slowly circle around the Pandorica, her long, draping dress trailing a pattern through the blanket of ash on the ground. She was gazing around at the room with genuine interest, as if she were perusing an art gallery instead of a mausoleum.

"Interesting," she murmured, "to think that you've chosen to stay here forever. Is she really worth all that, Rory? It is a dreadful place here."

"Yes," Rory replied without skipping a beat, "and it's also why I'd like to know who you are and _what you are doing here._"

"Mmm." The woman reached up and began casually pulling down cobwebs from the ceiling, her expression nonchalant. "Didn't I tell you? I'm here to help." She laughed softly. "As to who I am…well, I could be anyone. This is a disintegrating timeline we are living in now, after all, isn't it? And nothing makes sense anymore. I could be anyone from anywhere, but it doesn't matter. You needn't let that worry your pretty little head." She turned back to face him, a huge bundle of dirty web and dust now wrapped up in her hands. "What you should be more worried about instead is the huge Roman army headed this way at this very moment. The entire legion you left oh, years ago, has finally tracked down where you all went off to. They're curious as to where 50 men could have gone and what could have kept them from ever returning."

Rory froze. "They're coming this way now, towards Stonehenge?"

The woman smiled. "Yes. Oh, but it'll still be weeks before they get here. Primitive travelling methods and all that."

Rory drew near her, his eyes narrowed. "And why are you telling me all this?"

The woman looked up at him, and he saw that her eyes were as pale and faded grey as the dress she wore. "Because," she said simply, "I feel sorry for your fate, Rory. The doomed soldier who will wait forever for his Amy to return. You will wait years and years… and yet in the end, you still will never have her."

Rory felt his free hand tightening into a fist. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he said stiffly.

"Oh, Rory." The woman sat down primly on a discarded Sontaran suit, folding her petite legs together. "It's written in your destiny. Just like it was written for you to fall in love with her, for the cracks to appear, for the Doctor to appear in both your lives. There is no such thing as coincidence, Rory," she sighed sadly, as if she really was bemoaning his fate, "and everything has always happened the way it was meant to be. Just like everything will continue to happen as they must. And I am afraid, Rory, that in the end… you will never find happiness. Amy Pond will be lost."

Rory could feel a quick surge of heat rising through him. "I have a sword," he said through clenched teeth, jabbing its tip in her direction, "so don't push it."

The woman raised her hands as if in surrender. "I meant nothing," she said furtively, "I was merely here to inform you. That, and to help tidy up your sad home a bit. You said you wanted to know who I was, and I was answering you." She stood up, calmly pushing the tip of his sword away from her face. "This much you can know about me – when I say something is to be, it will never change. I have seen the past and the future and all that is to be."

Rory glared at her. "I don't believe you."

"Ah, well, that's too bad." The woman drew near him, until he could see the details of her porcelain skin and feel the folds of her flowing dress over his feet. "I did try. Now, you look tired. Your Nestene flesh is remarkably realistic, you know, and you're already showing so many signs of weariness, you poor boy." She raised a hand to Rory's cheek. And yet even as he flinched, he could feel that her hand was strangely comforting, cool but not cold. And despite himself and his suspicions about this phantom-like woman before him, Rory felt himself relaxing, like an entire load had been suddenly lifted off his shoulders and taken away by her touch. He almost blinked in surprise.

"You were dreaming of Amy, were you not, before I appeared? I'd say that's a good idea; use your memories to keep you company. They may be the only things you will have, but then again they may also be the ones that will drive you mad. Who knows?" A side of her mouth twisted upwards as she stepped back. The relaxed feeling stayed, however, and her voice was so soothing now, softer than ever before. "The thing is, you must rest, Rory, or you won't even last a century."

Rory realized his legs were growing weak. The woman had clearly done something to make him drowsy again; perhaps she was the reason why he had fallen asleep before. The thought of this greatly disturbed him, and stubbornly he fought back the desire to sit down. He lifted up his sword again. "I want you to leave. Now," he shouted, pressing a hand against his temple to get rid of the fog that was pouring in. "And stay away from Amy. Or I swear, I will hunt you down."

"Oh please, with so many protections and locks on that box, do you really think I could open it anyhow?" The woman tittered. "Like I said, your own Roman boys are what you need to worry about. The next time you wake up, you'll barely even remember me."

And with that, the woman turned away again, still holding onto the swathe of spiderwebs, her robes kicking up a cloud of dust that swirled in her wake. As Rory stared after her, struggling to keep his eyes open, she headed down the passage and then seemed to disappear into the darkness and dust. The grey clouds didn't stop swirling, however; her presence had disturbed the solitude of this tomb in such a way that even the ashes couldn't rest now.

Rory staggered back over to his position by the Pandorica. Leaning heavily against it, he slowly slid down to the floor, mentally forcing himself to not give into whatever the woman had put in his system. But it was so hard; his eyelids felt so heavy, and all his movements felt sluggish, like he was now made of lead instead of plastic. He banged his head back against the wall in frustration. "Oh, Amy," he groaned, "help me. I have to stay awake."

And as if in answer, he could hear Amy's voice, laughing out at him from the past in amusement. "_Oh, stupid you,_" she said, "_what are you doing now, studying for another big medical exam? Well, what would you like me to do?_"

And he could hear himself answering. "_I dunno. Surprise me?"_

"_Well, want to hear the noise that always keeps me awake? The sound of that blue box. Erhhm, it goes something like this." _She cleared her throat. "_VWORP VWORP VWORP VWORP–"_

She broke off as they both doubled over in laughter. "_Oh god,_" she said,_ "on second thought, maybe I shouldn't do that. Not particularly attractive, is it?"_

He was chuckling; it was nothing but cute. "_Trust me_," he replied, "_I don't mind."_

"_Then how about this?" _she said softly, moving over, and landing a soft kiss on his lips. "_Would this wake you up?"_

Rory raised a hand to his own lips; he could almost feel the touch of her warm lips on his. Just a faint, faded ghost of a memory, but it was there. And he could hear himself saying in reply, "_Oh. Well. Yes, that would definitely...definitely keep me up."_


	5. Mels and the Doctor

**(A/N: I've been really busy, so sorry for the slow update, guys! Once again, homework is eating away at all my time. But here's a slightly longer chapter to make it up to you! ;) I'm still hoping everything is relatively "British" enough - do kids have "Foster homes" there? If you guys have any advice/enlightenment you can give me, let me know in a comment!**

* * *

><p><strong>(A.D. 1996 – Leadsworth, England)<strong>

The crack in the wall continued to manifest itself into their lives.

Rory could still remember that Sunday morning when he heard a rapid pounding on the front door from his room. His mother went to open the door, and he could hear Amelia saying breathlessly, "I want to talk to Rory."

And then, when he had gone downstairs and his mother had closed the front door behind them, Amelia had blurted out with barely suppressed excitement, "Santa sent me someone to fix my wall."

"What?"

"Santa," she said, bobbing up and down with impatience, "sent me someone to look at the crack in my wall last night. It was this raggedy doctor man. And he said there was a whole world behind my wall, so I wasn't wrong, see? And I even saw like…this giant eye! IT WAS HUGE!"

Rory was speechless. To be quite honest, he had seen the crack in her wall when she had taken him over the other day to see if he could also hear the voice that came from it, but he hadn't been too impressed. The crack was silent (even she admitted it, though she followed with the speculation that sometimes the voice could be sleeping), and it also had looked ordinary enough. Not that Rory would tell her what he thought, of course. He had simply nodded in silent agreement as she explained to him everything that was wrong with her wall.

And now she was babbling again. "So I also know now that Santa is always really watching us. Even though Christmas is months off, he grants us wishes early if we really need it!" She beamed at him. "You should have been there, the crack completely opened up and then there was just this giant blue eyeball staring in, it was _horrid_. But now my crack is gone!" She giggled. "The raggedy man really sealed it!"

"Raggedy man?" Rory repeated in confusion.

"Yes! His clothes were all…torn." Amelia sat down on the porch. "He was really _weird._ But cool! He said he was a doctor, but then he had this police box. Oh!" Amelia turned around to Rory, her eyes wide. "You should have seen his police box! It crashed in our garden. It was huge and blue and…it had a library and swimming pools, and he told me it was a time machine!"

"A time machine?" Rory asked, growing more befuddled than ever.

"Yes! A real time machine. I didn't believe him either but he told me it was real, and that… I could come with him." Her smile disappeared. "He said he'd be back in five minutes because he had to fix the engines, but that I could go with him when he came back. I packed my bags and everything. I went outside to wait for him, but… he still hasn't come back yet. But you know what? He'll come back, he will."

Rory sat down next to her. "How do you know that?"

"Becauuuse," Amelia turned to him give him a _isn't-it-obvious_ look, "he was magic. And he said he wasn't just any_ people_. He said, "Trust me, I'm the Doctor." So, I trust him." She shrugged. "Also…I fell asleep, waiting for him last night. Someone carried me home though, because I woke up this morning in bed, and it wasn't Aunt Sharon. She was just getting home when I woke up. So… maybe it was him actually! Maybe he came back and tucked me into bed."

Rory looked down at his shoes. In truth, he wondered a tiny bit if this girl was really as cuckoo as everyone else said she was, but a part of him also wanted badly to believe her. So in the end, he just asked, "Why didn't he take you with him if he really came back to tuck you in?"

Amelia shrugged again. "Dunno. Maybe he didn't want to wake me up, he was nice and funny like that. But he'll come back to take me away soon." She grinned. "And I can't wait!"

Rory sighed. He wanted to go away in a time machine too; that sounded awfully fun. Little did he know that if only he had stayed up a little later last night, and looked outside his window, he would have actually seen the lopsided police box crash-landing in Amelia's garden. He would have seen it glowing eerily blue and green at the same time as it blew soft smoke into the air, and heard its bells ringing in alarm. And he would have seen Amelia running out in her red welly boots, breathless and excited, and seen the strange raggedy man tumbling out of the box, dripping wet with floppy hair and bringing with him imaginations come true.

* * *

><p>The strange arrivals in their lives didn't stop there. A new girl was also introduced into school that week.<p>

Her name was Mels, and not much else was known about her except that she had moved in with a new foster home in town recently. She was loud, obnoxious, had a bit of an attitude problem and also an immediate fixation on Amelia.

It was at lunchtime when Mels slid into the table Amelia was sitting at, the soup in her bowl nearly slopping out as she slapped her tray down. "So," Mels said without introduction, "tell me about the Doctor."

Rory was sitting at a table behind Amelia with two boys he knew, James Kerning and Tom Lively, when he heard Mels and looked up in surprise, a juice box halfway to his mouth. Despite Amelia's growing friendliness with him when they were at home, they had yet to really act like friends at school. Amelia was already unpopular enough these days, and she seemed to be disappointed with Rory's lack of social status, and he was too shy and quiet to approach her anyways. But they'd developed a system where they would sit somewhat near each other, whether it was at lunch or in class, and on occasions, they'd even hang out a bit during recess.

"How'd you know about the Doctor?" Amelia asked in surprise.

"Pleaaase." Mels rolled her eyes, picking up her spoon, "who doesn't?"

That was true, Rory had to admit, because Amelia had lost no time in spreading her crazy Doctor ideas all around school the day after she had told him. She was just too much of a talker, and before she even realized it, she had given the school even more fuel for rumors. What started as hopeful proof for why she wasn't crazy about the crack in her wall only became more nutty talk. Basically everyone now knew about the "Raggedy Doctor", as Amelia herself had coined it, and also of his "blue time-travelling machine" and his "blue magic wand". _Amelia has an imaginary friend_, Kate sing-songed in class just yesterday, _isn't that cuuute?_

Amelia gave Mels a shy smile. "Well, if you really want to know," she said, propping up her head with her hand, "he said my name was "brilliant". He said it was like a name in a fairy tale." She gazed off with a small, silly smile on her lips.

Mels made a face, and Rory resisted the urge to do so as well. But then Mels was suddenly staring at him, and in return, Rory quickly ducked his head down and pretended to be busy with his pasta.

Mels looked away and back at Amelia. "What else did he say?" she piped.

"Well…" Amelia thought. "He fixed the crack in my wall, so nowadays I can sleep soundly in my room again. And he hates all kinds of food, except for fish fingers and custard. He broke a plate when I made him buttered toast and even now my aunt is still wondering where it went! Oh, and he broke our shed too - my aunt is going crazy about that as well. He also travels through time."

Mels licked her spoon. "I bet he travels through space, too."

"Why do you say that?" Amelia asked, curious.

"Well, 'cos it only makes sense that way, doesn't it?" Mels shrugged and dipped her spoon back in her soup.

_No, that doesn't_, Rory thought to himself. But Amelia was smiling and nodding her head. "Yeah! He was talking about space and universes and stuff, and –" Amelia lowered her voice conspiratorially – "I think the eyeball I saw was _alien_."

Mels grinned. "It totally was too, I bet."

Amelia was amazed. Here was a girl that she barely knew, but who believed everything she said! And totally had her own ideas too. "Friends?" Amelia asked Mels hopefully.

"Friends." Mels smiled back, and finished off her soup.

* * *

><p>Rory watched the two girls as they all took the bus home, growing thicker than thieves as they continued to giggle and make stories about the Doctor. He couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed, because just as he thought he was finally making a little headway in being friends with Amelia, some other girl had come by and also believed her stories, and now Amelia probably didn't even need him anymore.<p>

However, as he was getting off the bus, Amelia suddenly grabbed his jacket. "Rory, Rory, wait," she said, jumping off the bus behind him. Mels was following closely behind. "Want to come over today?"

Rory stared at Mels. "Is she coming?"

"Yeah." Amelia grinned. "Oh, I almost forgot, um – Rory, this is Mels. Mels, Rory. He's nice and knows about the Doctor too."

Mels nodded to him. " 'Eyy," she said.

"Hey." Rory replied, a little hesitantly. "What are we doing?"

Amelia smiled devilishly. "Hide-and seek!" And before Rory could object, Amelia was dragging him off by his jacket, Mels following in their wake.

A few hours later up in her room, Amelia was dragging out a box that held an ever-increasing amount of crafts and pictures related to the Doctor. "Is he hot?" Mels asked as she watched Amelia root around inside.

Amelia raised an eyebrow at Mels as she pulled out a TARDIS replica. "No, he's funny." She started making whooshing noises as she spun in a circle, imitating the box as it whirled through the vortex in flight (the idea of a Time Vortex had also come upon Mels's suggestion).

Meanwhile, Rory trudged into the room, tired. He had been waiting to be found for a long time, because even though the girls had soon tired of hide-and-seek and stopped playing, they hadn't bothered to inform him. It wasn't as if he'd care to look at their nail polish or talk about how _amazing_ the Doctor was, after all, and Amelia had considered it actually as doing him a favor. "I thought we were playing hide-and-seek," he complained for the fourth time. "I've been waiting for hours!"

Mels shot Amelia a look, and she sighed. "We just haven't found you yet, Rory!" she replied, exasperated. "Go back and hide."

Rory frowned. "Okay." He trudged off obediently again.

"What do we still need him here for, anyhow?" Mels asked after he had disappeared again. "We could just tell him to go home."

Amelia shook her head. "Look, I have this idea," she leaned in to whisper, "of playing dress-up. And I was thinking Rory could be the Doctor!"

Mels frowned. "That's a good idea. But why Rory? I wanna be the Doctor!"

Amelia was aghast. "But you can't be!"

"Why not?" Mels demanded.

"B-because," Amelia stuttered, "the Doctor was a guy and I want this to be realistic!"

"I could be a convincing guy," Mels retorted.

Amelia ignored her. "It's a good idea, yeah?"

"I think it's a crap idea because you want Rory to be the Doctor," Mels muttered.

Amelia jumped up to her feet. "I'm going to tell Rory." She opened her door and stuck her head out. "Rorrrry! Come here! We give up on finding you!"

Rory reappeared breathlessly within a few seconds, excited. "So, does that mean I won?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, you won," Amelia said, sitting back down on her bed and waving her hand impatiently, "but we want to do something else now. We're going to play dress-up!"

Rory wrinkled his nose. "Dress-up?"

Amelia nodded. "Yeah, we want you to be the Doctor." Then, noticing the look on his face, she started pleading. "Pleasepleaseplease? It'll be really cool, you get to fight aliens!"

"Err…"

"Oh come on! You're the only one here who could play him."

Mels sniffed. "That's not true, I'm perfectly fine with being him –"

"Oh come_ on_, Mels! You can be the Doctor next time, okay?"

Mels settled back on the pillows, satisfied. Amelia turned back to grin at Rory. "So that's a yes, right?"

"Umm – "

"Great!" Amelia clapped her hands. "Now we just have to find the clothes. I'm going to be myself, of course, so I don't need anything else. And Mels, you can be…"

"I'm going to be the alien you guys fight." Mels said immediately.

"Ok, sure. But for Rory…we need a big blue shirt." Amelia frowned. "I don't have any boy shirts though…"

Mels shook her head. "Don't look at me. My foster dad doesn't wear anything but old tees."

Amelia looked up at Rory. "Do you have a big blue shirt? Like, in the size that a grown-up would wear?"

Rory shook his head. "I don't have a dad, remember?"

"Wow!" Amelia exclaimed. "We all don't have dads. That's just great." In mutual silence they all slumped down on her bed, defeated by this unexpected clothing obstacle. After a moment, Amelia said, "Well, we'll figure it out. Maybe we can't play dress-up today, but we'll find a shirt somewhere." She sighed, and Rory found himself once again speaking up before he could think it through properly.

"Well…. there are these shirts my mum's boyfriend leaves over at our house sometimes." He said slowly. "Maybe I could…bring one of those over, and we could use that?"

Amelia's face immediately lit up. "Really? Could you?"

"Err…yeah, I could try." Rory tried to ignore the smirk Mels was throwing him. "We just um, have to put it back before my mum or Michael notices it's gone."

Amelia nodded. "Sure, of course!"

"Okay then… I'll just go get it, then." Rory stood up, and was about to let himself out of the room when Amelia bounded up to give him a hug.

"Thank you, Roryyy!" she said. "You're awesome."

Behind them Mels was grinning wickedly as she twirled Amy's blue box around between her fingertips. "Yeah, thanks, Rory," she echoed, and Rory found himself quickly slipping away before either of them could see the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.


End file.
